by David Talon
I looked at the goblin in exasperation. “Bloody bones, what’re you talking about?”
“Just this: time cannot be stopped, but if you can unharness yourself from its yoke then you can move faster or slower within it. Long-Mu understands this, and she’s manipulated time so everyone aboard the Davy ages at a much slower rate, not out of kindness for them but for reasons of her own. Her son does not understand this, but with the white ring he can still do the opposite and release himself from time’s yoke and move at a faster rate... but only at need. Time is energy: to slow it builds up energy while racing through it takes energy away.” I gave Hob a look of utter bewilderment and he chuckled. “My apologies. Tomas, the ring will let you make everything go slow while you move at your normal speed, but it’s going to take strength from you, and the longer you do this the more strength you’ll use. Also, you will really, and I mean really, want to make time go slow while you move normally or it won’t happen. Did that make sense?”
“Sort of,” I replied. “But what if I can’t do it?”
Hob’s smile became a terrible grin filled with sharp teeth. “I will know you’re not Long-Mu’s son. And if that’s the case...then you and I are going to take a little trip down to the bilge, where no one can find you, and we are going to find out who you really are. No one can get into your head like a goblin can.” The knot of fear rose up inside me again as Hob’s teeth began to glitter like silver knives. “You children aboard my ship have no idea what I truly am. You call me a goblin, a name born of men’s fear...but the truth is far, far, worse.” He jiggled the cup in his hand. “Are you ready? It’s time.” Hob opened his hand and the cup began to fall.
I took off with a strangled cry. The distance wasn’t that far yet I knew I couldn’t make it, the cup beginning to tumble end over end as it began to move like the air had turned so thick it was floating down through it. But the air was just as thick for me as I struggled to reach the teacup gently floating down. I had to reach it before it smashed, pushing against the invisible barrier like a man swimming through mud, screaming in frustration as I slammed against the barrier with all my might, pushing harder, pushing harder, pushing...
Suddenly I stumbled, my speed normal as the cup continued its slow descent less than a foot from the grey-wood deck. Without thinking I dove forward with my arms outstretched, sliding across the deck as the cup dropped...
Into my palms, time a pocket around me as I curled my body while I continued sliding...
Time returned to normal and my back hit the stern deck rail, the cup bobbling in my hands a moment before it became still. Pepper slid to a stop and dropped to her knees beside me. “Kyrie eleyson, I’ve never seen anyone move so fast! Are you well?”
I nodded, gently handing the cup back to her as I gasped for air. “My insides are a little cold, like they get when Jade takes strength, but not nearly as bad. Anyway, I wasn’t moving fast at all; everything else slowed down.”
“Time is a matter of perception,” Hob said as he dropped to the deck beside us. Suddenly he cackled. “Tomas, you should’ve seen the look your face when I told you it was time. It was worth all the gold at the bottom of a Shadowman’s galleon.”
“Do you mean you were having a jest with me?”
“Well, I had to do something to make you really want to catch it. Tomas,” he said to my exasperated look, “I knew you were Long-Mu’s son the moment your feet hit the deck of my ship.” He gave me a crafty smile. “Now you do too.”
QUARTUS
Grey-mouse never returned. I stood at the bow, waiting for the sound of her voice as the sun rose over Big Bluff until Mr. Smith pulled me away and had me assemble the remaining five. I made them swear to never let themselves become depleted like Grey-mouse had and they all took strength from me, and then Mr. Smith bade me break my fast with the morning’s porridge and rest, which I did.
It was late afternoon when Jeremiah poked me awake with the blunted tip of a sword. “Roust your arse,” he said as I opened my eyes and sat up. “We’re going to practice fighting together.” He reversed the sword and handed it to me hilt first. It was obviously transmuted, but instead of being black, shiny and hard, it was grey, a cutlass with a curved blade and wide bell guard designed to protect the hand. “You need to watch Hob as he makes these: he breathes on the wood and it becomes like clay in his hands, letting him mold it any way he likes. Then he sets it aside and within an hour it hardens like this.” Jeremiah took the sword tip and bent it back and forth. “It won’t break bone but you’ll feel it if you get hit, especially if someone smacks you in the face. Now throw on some trousers and let’s go.”
In short order we were on the main deck with Mr. Smith, who’d brought out a variety of grey-wood swords, daggers, and axes, along with several black Artifact pistols but with grey-wood shot. He also had Master Khan’s little manikin resting on a water barrel nearby. “Hob made the pistol balls hollow,” he said in his rumbling voice, “so they’ll shatter on impact. Meaning they sting when you’re hit but do no lasting damage. Jeremiah has a keen eye with a pistol, but the problem is even an Artifact pistol takes time to reload. However, Star is getting quite agile when she inhabits the little manikin of Khan’s, so I thought I’d see if she could learn to reload for him.”
“I can teach her the skill,” Pepper said from behind me. I turned as she walked towards us from Sally’s cabin with the Bo beside her, Pepper’s face flushed while Sally looked happy. “When I was with Cholula she taught me how to reload both pistols and muskets, so I could make myself useful in a fight.”
“Did you learn anything from the young woman you took aside last night?” Mr. Smith asked.
“Not much, I ‘m afraid. She did say Freehold’s become a sanctuary for the renegade Shadowmen and there’s about twenty or so of them living in the town. They’ve got a sloop docked at the pier they use for raids.”
Jeremiah asked, “Why are the townspeople putting up with it?”
Pepper grimaced. “Fear, but also because they’ve turned several of Freehold’s young men into Shadowmen themselves. I would’ve gotten a lot more out of her, except the shaman showed up and took her away.”
“Water past the bow,” Mr. Smith said. “Jeremiah, spar with Tomas for a time while Pepper instructs his dragon-ghost. I want to see where his skills lay, so we may find the best weapon for him.”
As Pepper began working with Star, Mr. Smith had me start with a cutlass then switch to a one-handed axe, use a slender spear and finally change to a cutlass in my left hand and a dagger long enough to be a short sword in my right, which he agreed seemed to work the best for me. Meanwhile, Pepper had been working with Star until the little manikin could reload a pistol faster than anyone including the French sharpshooters, who’d decided to make a contest of it. Jeremiah and I took a break and drank the Sweetwater Sally brought us, cheering on Star as she bested yet another Frenchman while the others groaned.
Then Mr. Smith got my attention by handing me my grey-wood cutlass and long dagger. “You’ve got a good grasp of the basics, and a full set of wits to boot. Now, let’s see how you fare when thrown to the wolves.” He looked around at the crew who’d decided to watch. “Any of you lads feel like taking on our brave Dragon and his fierce comrade?”
Several men Jeremiah’s age jumped in, and soon we were fighting five of them, all armed with grey-wood cutlasses of their own. The first three rounds saw our arses served to us on a platter, Mr. Smith shaking his head as they swarmed us. Then we began the fourth. They came at us like they had, all bunched up together, but instead of trying to defend I attacked the one in front of me, hitting his forearm and making him drop his cutlass. I rushed forward and stabbed him in the belly then slashed the man behind him across the face as he reared back to swing while Jeremiah faked an overhead swing then swung low, taking out another man’s leg. Suddenly it was the pair of us swarming the last two men, who went down cursing as the crew’s catcalls turned to cheers.<
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But the cheering stopped as the Mulatto, the bearded man and Whistling John stepped in front of me, the three of them armed with grey-wood weapons. The Mulatto smiled. “You promised to fight the three of us in a training bout.”
“I did,” I replied warily.
“The lads need a rest,” Mr. Smith said in his deep rumble.
“I’m not interested in a fair fight,” the Mulatto shot back. “You don’t push hard enough, Smith: the lad needs to be beaten into exhaustion before you let him rest.”
Mr. Smith’s expression was like dangerous clouds covering the sun. “I decide how hard Tomas is pushed, not you.”
Suddenly Captain Hawkins spoke from behind us. “Give Tomas one round with them then let him rest.” He strode forward from the crew’s hold where he’d come up from below with Claude and Master Le’Vass. “I need more weapons transmuted, so I’m going to have Jade draw from him on the morrow.”
“I understand,” the Mulatto replied, saluting the captain in a gesture of respect. Then he turned to me with the smile of a hungry swamp lizard. “Shall we begin?”
Jeremiah whispered in my ear, “Think about how we just won and make them eat a share of humble pie.” I nodded and he clapped me on the shoulder, walking over to stand with Mr. Smith and Pepper, who I noticed handed Jeremiah the Artifact pistol in her hand.
The Mulatto bore a grey-wood cutlass as did Whistling John, but the bearded man had a one-handed axe, which he hefted as they rushed forward. I was tired but fear gave me a burst of strength as I ran forward to meet them, the Mulatto hanging back as the bearded man tried to hold up but tripped Whistling John instead, making him stumble. Fortune smiled a moment as I caught the axe blow swinging down at me with the long dagger while swinging the cutlass at Whistling John with an upward stroke. I’d meant to strike across his chest but he lurched forward and I caught him between the legs instead, John squealing as he went down. The bearded man stepped around him and swung again.
I dodged away and stumbled, the Mulatto following behind the bearded man as he pursued me close to where the Mulatto’s men were catcalling me and Whistling John, mocking him as he lay writhing on the deck. Redbeard was standing there as well. “Stand your ground, Lad!” Heeding his words I rushed forward, catching the bearded man’s blow just below the axe-head as I stabbed him in the belly. He grunted and stepped back, raising his arm to swing again. But he stopped as a large hand seized his wrist. “I be thinking you just got a killing blow.” The others catcalled at the bearded man, who stepped back with a shrug as Redbeard suddenly yelled, “Laddie, ware!”
Striking like a rattlesnake but with less warning, the Mulatto was upon me. His blows came so fast I barely had time to block before the next one came, the Mulatto playing with me as I desperately tried to attack back. He brushed my sword aside and swung again. Finally he grew tired of his sport and cracked me across the forearm, sending my cutlass spinning away as he slammed me against the mainmast with the rounded edge of his grey-wood cutlass at my throat. “Yield.” I shook my head and he pressed the sword against me until it was hard to breathe. “Yield!”
His breath smelled of rum and garlic, the skin of his face peeled away in places with black flakes hanging off, revealing white skin underneath burned red from the harsh sun. The Mulatto’s men were yelling at me to yield, but fear had turned to fury and I stabbed upward into his own throat instead.
The Mulatto leaped away, but to my surprise he laughed. “That’s the spirit,” he said as I gasped for air, the rounded tip of his cutlass tapping me on the chest. “A Shadowman will never show you mercy so never yield to them, lest you end up dancing to the tune the Dark Sisters play. As the captain likes to say, am I clear?” I nodded, rubbing my bruised throat as he looked me over with a critical eye. “You need to have the Mulatto take over your training. It’ll be harsh, but when it’s over you’ll be ready to face them.”
“Tomas is my apprentice,” Captain Hawkins said as he strode up beside us, “and Mr. Smith will be the one who trains him.” He gave the Mulatto a hard look. “As I like to say, am I clear?”
The Mulatto gave the captain a smile never reaching his eyes. “Of course. Were Tomas my apprentice I would do the same... which he’d be, were I the captain.” He tossed his cutlass at me, which I caught mid-air by the blade, and then gave me a hungry smile as he turned away to rejoin his men.
Whistling John was coming towards me but I ignored him, glancing towards Pepper and Jeremiah, my friend staring at the Mulatto with a murderous look on his face as Pepper watched me. She grinned, making an exaggerated motion of wiping relieved sweat from her brow, which made me smile. Suddenly, she screamed, “Tomas, ware!”
I leaped away as Whistling John slashed the empty space where I’d been with a steel knife. I grabbed the grey-wood cutlass by its hilt and faced him as he snarled at me, raising the knife to strike as he started forward. Suddenly there was a pistol roar and Whistling John dropped the knife as he clawed at his eyes. I glanced back to see Pepper handing Jeremiah another pistol, which he aimed at Whistling John as Pepper reloaded the first, but with a steel ball instead of a grey one.
Both the Mulatto and the captain had spun around, Captain Hawkins striding towards him with his white sword out as Whistling John turned to me with a fearful look on his face. “Tomas pray forgive me,” his words coming out with a slight hiss. “The others were calling me names and I lost my head.” Captain Hawkins put the edge of the white sword at Whistling John’s throat and he held out his hands in supplication. “I made a mistake, that’s all. I don’t want to end up like Terence.”
Master Le’Vass strode up as well. “All men make mistakes, but an attack upon ze captain’s apprentice is an attack upon ze captain.”
“I didn’t harm Tomas and I won’t. Please sir,” he said, turning to the captain as he lowered his voice, “a couple of the Mulatto’s old crew saw me speaking with the Buccan’s new lad and now they think I’m a sodomite like the Buccan are. I couldn’t take what they were saying about me.”
Captain Hawkins removed his sword from Whistling John’s throat and slid it back into its leather scabbard. “I heard some of what they said, and quite frankly I couldn’t understand why they were saying that to one of their own.”
“I heard ze same,” Master Le’Vass said, glancing at me before turning back towards Whistling John. “If ze captain’s apprentice is inclined to forgive his mistake, I am inclined to forget that John ever made it.”
“I am,” I said quickly, not wanting to be responsible for another man’s punishment. “John, I really didn’t mean to hit you where I did.”
“Felt like you’d raked my privates with hot iron,” Whistling John said, the other two men chuckling as he held out his hand. “If you’ll accept my apology I’d be grateful.”
The Mulatto came striding up as I put both weapons in my left hand, preparing to shake his with my right. But the Mulatto grabbed him by the back of the neck and spun him around, seizing Whistling John by the throat as he slammed him up against the mainmast. “I don’t care if they think you a sodomite,” he hissed in John’s ear, “nor do I care if you are one. But I care greatly about being made a fool in front of the crew by your actions. I am going to make you regret this act.”
Master Le’Vass hooked his thumbs on the red sash at his waist. “Only ze quartermaster may punish a member of ze crew, per ze Articles we all signed.”
The Mulatto let go of Whistling John’s throat, the man gasping for air as the Mulatto faced Master Le’Vass. “He’s mine to do with as I wish.”
Master Le’Vass put himself inches from the Mulatto’s face. “I take my responsibility as quartermaster with ze utmost seriousness. John is a free man and not subject to you.”
“True aboard ship,” Captain Hawkins remarked, “but on shore the Articles are...rather vague, about such matters.”
The smile the Mulatto gave the captain reached his eyes this
time as Master Le’Vass rounded on Captain Hawkins. “You make a mockery of ze Articles by your actions...”
Suddenly a young girl’s voice spoke from beside me. “Tomas, you told me to report back if I saw anything strange. Is a Shadowman walking alone down the grey-stone road towards us strange?”
“It is,” I answered as an uneasy muttering swept the crew. “Little Raven, how far away is he?”
“Less than a league.”
I looked to Captain Hawkins, who said, “Have Jade scout the area then...ask him what he wants.”
As I repeated the captain’s commands to Jade, Master Le’Vass gave the captain a dark look. “We shall revisit this day some other, mon captain. I promise you.” Captain Hawkins watched him with a dark look of his own as the quartermaster walked away.
“The renegades wish to parlay,” Jade’s voice said from in front of me. I was down below in the crew’s hold with most of the men, the ones left on watch keeping an eye on the lone figure in dark clothes and a wide brimmed hat waiting patiently on shore. I was beside the captain, with Jeremiah and Pepper on my other side as Jade continued. “The Shadowman, who says his name is Tommy, has offered explicit assurances of your safety. He says he will escort Captain Hawkins and any six of his men he wishes to bring to Freehold’s wine-shoppe, which he also says is their bawdy house, where their leader will make you a proposal. Even if you decline the proposal your safety is assured, he told me in very deliberate language, swearing none of the Shadowmen will do any violence towards any member of the crew for any reason. Only if you attack the sloop will they fight back.”
“Shadowmen are acting strangely cordial to us these days,” Captain Hawkins said. “Did he say who their leader is?”
“Black Pox Bill,” Jade answered, “the one you once knew as Sweet William.”
Everyone began speaking at once, some angry at the sound of his name, some wondering who he was, while others questioned why we were even speaking to Shadowmen in the first place. Then Master Walters blew out his moustache. “Pipe down, you gutter rats,” he bellowed. “Let the quartermaster speak.”